


4-F Doesn't Mean Useless

by AnonEhouse



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky friendly, Gen, Howard friendly, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 19:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: There's more than one way to serve your country. Bucky and Steve step up and do their part.





	4-F Doesn't Mean Useless

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

 

Steve looked up from his sketchbook as he heard familiar footsteps approaching. After all these years, he'd know Bucky's distinctive walk from anyone else's. He looked up, grinning, but felt the smile slip from his face. Bucky didn't look happy at all.

"Bucky?"

Bucky sighed and sat down on the stoop next to Steve. He held up a card. "And how was your day, Stevie?"

Steve grabbed at the card. "FOUR- F! Was the examiner blind?" Steve stood up. "We should go right back there and ask for a different guy."

"Whoa, whoa." Bucky grabbed the back of Steve's shirt and tugged him back to sit down. "I've got flat feet, Steve. You know that. I thought maybe it wasn't that bad, but..." He shrugged. "The doc disagreed."

"You've got shoes that fix that," Steve said.

"And the Army quartermaster is gonna follow me around with right kind of shoes?" Bucky shook his head. "No, it's ok. I talked to some of the other guys who didn't make the cut, and they gave me some good ideas. So, anyway, you didn't say, how was your day?"

Steve scowled and showed Bucky a 4-F card. "Too short," he said. He spread his fingers like a magic trick revealing another card with another 4-F on it, but a different name and address. "I stood on my toes so I was just tall enough, but... someone was smoking...so... asthma."

"Aw, hell, Stevie, put them away. You wanna go to jail for lyin' to the government?"

Steve shoved the cards back into his pocket. "I just... what am I supposed to do, get a little red wagon and collect scrap!"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Well, if you want to, but me, I'm going to look for a job in the war industries. I'm a good auto mechanic. Airplanes can't be that much different. I bet they'll give me a crash course and have me building bombers in a couple weeks."

Steve's scowl returned. 

Bucky nudged him with his elbow. "C'mon, I got the address, come with me and see what they have for you. Every place is short handed these days."

"Yeah, they probably need a guy to push a broom."

"Steve, don't make me go without you."

"Ok!" Steve threw up his hands and put on a small smile. "Me and you, Bucky."

"To the end of the line."

 

Steve sighed and shifted from foot to foot, leaning past Bucky to get a glimpse of the office door far ahead. Most of the people in line were women, or old men, but even so, most of them were taller and looked more healthy than Steve. "It's a long way to the end of the line, Bucky."

Bucky grinned at him.

People in overalls with the company logo stitched on a pocket had been going past in both directions, and after a while no one looked up, but there was shifting in the line when the door to the office opened, and a harried looking man in a gray suit leaned out to call out, "Next!" 

Steve was still angling past Bucky, and their eyes met. The man's eyes widened. "YOU! Hey, yes, you!" the man gestured to Steve. "Come here!"

Steve looked at Bucky for a moment, then straightened, put his shoulders back and marched up to the man. "Yes, sir?"

The man held his hand above Steve's head, and then put his hands sideways and spaced them a little further apart than Steve's shoulders. "Perfect! How is your hand strength? Your manual dexterity? Hold out your hands."

Bemused, Steve obeyed, and let the man press against his hands, humming in approval. "I'm an artist," Steve said. "Does that help?"

"Excellent!" The man looked up from Steve's hands and grinned at him. He had a nice smile, a little on the manic side, that made his mustache twitch. "Got any problem with tight spaces, loud noises?"

"I'm a little bit hard of hearing, so I don't mind noise. Bein' cramped doesn't bother me, either."

"Perfect!" The man slapped Steve on the back. "ESME!" he shouted, and an even more harried looking woman wearing a black and white polka dotted dress peered out of the office. "Take this man over to George, he's been begging me for more riveters." The man looked back at Steve. "Not much room in the fuselage of a fighter. You're perfect. Absolutely just the man we need." He grinned at Steve and held out his hand. "What's your name?"

"Steve Rogers, sir," Steve replied as he shook the man's hand. "And you are?"

The man laughed. "Howard Stark. My name's on the building, you won't forget it." Then he whirled and strode off, leaving Steve feeling like a spinning top.

"This way, Mr. Rogers," the woman in the polka dotted dress said. 

Steve followed her, and waved at Bucky as he went past, sharing a grin with his best friend. It was a pretty good day after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Real fact- my mother was less than 5 foot tall, never weighed more than 90 pounds, and during WWII she worked as a riveter inside parts of fighter planes where larger folks couldn't fit.
> 
> I like to think of Steve working on the line next to her. She was from a different part of NYC, but I'm sure they would have got along.


End file.
